


Fishy

by demonharu



Category: Free!
Genre: Blood and Gore, Drug Addiction, M/M, Violence, What Have I Done, Yandere, based off a book, mermaid au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 19:14:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5796511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonharu/pseuds/demonharu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Haruka Nanase rescues the merman, Makoto Tachibana, from a fishing accident, the aspiring artist graciously takes care of him in his own home, but things are not exactly as they seem and there is more than one thing that's fishy in that small house in Iwatobi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Primary Colors

Red.  
His eyelids shut tight like a shield from his pain, he screamed into the red fog surrounding him, cutting off every other sense he had, as if someone had surgically removed all sensory receptors in his brain other than those that transmitted one single thing: Pain.

Black.  
His body went limp and swirled downwards. Sinking. Further into darkness he fell. It was better than the red. Black was cold. Black was unknown. Still better than red.

Blue.  
He was neither red nor black, looking into blue. The wet sapphire light enveloped him, chasing away the black, fighting off the red. Blue was yelling. Blue was touching. Blue was…

Yellow.

Makoto blinked in the bright sunlight as he broke the surface of the water. In his favorite place, he pulled himself onto a large boulder that stood out from the center of his little secret hideaway. Hidden amongst high cliffs, the little bay filled with crystal blue water was a serene and solitary place where he could safely rest above the surface of the water. How many pleasant afternoons had he spent napping upon this very rock since he first discovered the alcove?

Green scales from his tail shimmered in the sunlight, catching the yellow rays of light and throwing them up into the blue sky again. If he maneuvered his glistening green tail just right, he could manipulate the lights and make them dance for him on the high walls of the surrounding cliffs. Around the top of the cliffs were bright and healthy plants that crawled closer to him slowly over time. The ivy climbed down the walls to join him, stopping its advance only when it met the water that lapped gently at the sides.

He rested upon the rock on his back while he looked at the sky framed by the high ruling cliffs wearing their soft green crowns. He would lay there and sometimes sing to himself—humming, composing, exploring new melodies and breaking the soft water’s soothing noises with his own comforting chorus. It wasn’t something he shared with anyone else, his talent. Whatever occurred in his secret place was exactly that: secret.

None of his family members nor aquatic friends were even aware of the existence of his quiet alcove of escape. He would disappear after noon when he was certain no one was watching and return after dark with no desire to share where he’d been. In the entire ocean, one might think a merman could find a place to be alone and enjoy himself, but, for Makoto, the only place he could be free from others was the surface and the sunlight. Unfiltered by the water, it warmed his skin as it glinted off of the emerald scales along his body and made his hair glisten like honey.

He slept peacefully that afternoon, cocooned in the warmth of the sun and protected by the high walls of his secret bay hidden in the cliffs. In his restful bliss, time ran past him in circles again and again, pulling the sun closer and closer to the water with it as if it held the sun on a kite string, winding it tighter and tighter down to the horizon.

Awakening to still darkness illuminated only by the white moon overhead, he stretched and eased himself into the water. His family would be waiting for him, worried about him. He’d slept too long by accident, letting the time-telling sand fall through his unconscious fingers. He gave the green powerful tail a flick and set off for a home he should have reached in under an hour.


	2. Salt and Wounds

Makoto groaned as he fought through the fog of unconsciousness.  Slowly, lazily, as if it were a battle with every muscle of his body to follow a single command.

_Wake up!_

He managed to flutter his eyelids for a moment, but could hardly supply the energy needed to keep them open any longer.  Somehow he felt heavy; as if his entire body was anchored to the ocean floor.

_Wake up!_

The command cut through the haze and he felt compelled to obey, but lacked the ability.  He tried again, to no avail.  The pressure of the anchor held him down, constricting his chest.  Breathing, expanding his lungs, raising his ribcage only the smallest amount necessary to gather the oxygen around him was taxing and his body soon gave up on that mission as well.

_Wake up!_

A searing heat spread over his face, down his throat, and filled his lungs with salty air.  It pushed his ribs outward, forcing the organs to expand despite Makoto’s weakness. Sticky, hot air clung to his insides and clawed at his muscles, begging them to move with extreme urgency, demanding that he comply.   He coughed, sputtered, and ejected the heated, sticky air from his lungs, quickly replacing it with a cold and shaky breath of his own while his body screamed violently in protest at the movement.

A sigh of relief.  “Hang on.” A voice, calm like the sea. There was warmth and a tightness around his left hand as if it were being held and Makoto became aware of something like wet flesh pressed against his cheek.   “Rest.  I’ll take care of you.”


	3. Good Morning

Makoto’s eyes opened drowsily for the first time in two weeks and he had to blink and squint against the artificial light that charged into his irises.  He was surrounded by white tile.  All around the small room, the white tile glistened proudly without a speck of grime or dirt.   His head lolled about as he tried to look around and down to see his body.  It felt heavy and numb and something was definitely… wrong.    

His green eyes searched for the tail that matched their color, but found only the ends of his fin sticking up out of the shallow pool of water he sat in now.  The glorious, shimmering tail was mostly covered by a white, thick fabric he recognized could be somehow related to injuries.  Was he hurt?  Why was his tail wrapped in such a way?

With all of his strength, he tried to move it, but was greeted with a shooting pain far greater than he’d ever experienced.  A pained scream escaped his throat and he thought for a moment his vocal chords might die before he did.  His body reacted to the pain, violently thrashing about and ultimately hurting him even more.

He heard pounding footsteps and then the door to the white tiled room was slid open with a sudden force.  In the hallway stood a boy—no, a young man?  He looked to be about Makoto’s age, though he was physically smaller in some ways.  Dressed in a blue shirt that featured an aquatic predator in a cartoonish style and light grey pants, the boy stood before him, eyes the size of saucers.   Hurriedly rushing to his side, he grabbed Makoto by the shoulders and held him down against the side of the bathtub, saying, “Oi, calm down! Don’t move!”

Makoto’s heart pounded in his chest and his eyes squinted closed as he tried to focus on the stranger’s orders.  _  Calm down.  Don’t move. _  His horrified scream turned into a low groan and a whimper as he eventually stilled, finding that it didn’t hurt as bad so long as he didn’t move.

When Makoto was finally still, he felt the stranger release him, apparently satisfied that he was calm.  Except he was anything  _ but  _ calm.  He was confused, hurt, and very upset. Where was he?  What happened to his tail?  How long had he been there?  Who was this stranger at his side helping him?

He slowly opened his eyes to meet the boy, looking into the worried face at his side.  Blue.  The eyes shimmering before him were bluer than the water in his secret place.  Like a distant memory, he felt like he’d seen these eyes before… Somewhere, he could tell he’d met this blue.  Flashbacks of red, black, and blue swept over him and he remembered feeling safe and being—was it rescued?—by this blue.  

Opening his mouth to ask a question, he found his throat was dry and choked suddenly, coughing and causing his body to flex, resulting in more pain from below.   The young man reacted quickly, running over to the sink and returning with a glass of water for him.  He held it to Makoto’s mouth, letting Makoto greedily gulp down the much-needed water, and quietly warned, “Take it easy.” 

The merciful water replenished his throat and he let the cold water wash over his searing insides that burned in the aftermath of his earlier shock.  “What happened to my—?” was his first question as he nodded his head towards his tail.   That was the most important question on his mind.

The boy’s eyes switched from concern to sorrow and then to pity as he withdrew the cup and set it on the floor of the bathroom.  “You were shot,” he said.  “Someone must have mistaken you for a whale.”  He looked over to Makoto’s bandaged tail lying in the water and placed a gentle hand over it without applying any pressure.  “I had to take out the harpoon before I could carry you here.”

To Makoto’s eyes, he almost looked apologetic, as if he was sorry for having hurt him while saving him.  With everything he could muster, Makoto smiled reassuringly at the young man.  “Thank you for taking care of me.  I’m sorry to have been such a bother.”

The young man blushed lightly and looked away from Makoto’s face with a sad look.  Makoto could only imagine this young man’s efforts: saving him from whomever had shot him, removing a harpoon from his tail, carrying him to what Makoto presumed was his home, and caring for him for however long he’d been here.   And on top of that, he was probably dealing with the fact that there was a living  _ merman  _ in his bathroom.   He had nothing to be embarrassed about or sorry for at all—he was a hero.  Makoto owed him a great debt and his chest swelled with affection for this sweet young man who’d gone so far out of his way for a complete stranger.

“I’m Makoto,” he began, trying to be conversational while ignoring that the pain in his lower half was starting to act up, throbbing and hitting him in short waves of heat as it most likely tried to fight of some sort of infection.  He’d be lucky if he didn’t get a fever.  “What’s your name?”

“Haru—” was the response he got before an alarm went off and he was distracted.  “I’ll be right back,” he said as he hurried out of the room and left Makoto alone to wonder about the meaning behind this alarm.  

When he returned a minute later, he knelt next to the tub again and held out two white capsules.  “Every few hours, you should take these for the pain.  I’m not sure if they work on  _ your kind,  _ but it’s all I have.”  Again with that apologetic look.  

Accepting the two capsules in his hand, Makoto smiled brightly through the pain.  “Thank you, Haru-chan.  How can I ever repay you?”  The blue eyes sparkled back at him for a moment before Haru looked away, hiding his face from view.   _ How cute—he’s shy _ .

Tossing the two pills into his mouth, Makoto swallowed them down with some effort.  Even with the water from the glass to wash them down, he was left with a distinctly foul taste in his mouth like chalk and algae, but Haru said it would ease the pain, so he’d do anything.

As he waited for the pills to take effect, he made pleasant conversation and tried his best to ignore the flashes of pain that would strike him any time he would move. Conversing with Haru wasn’t easy, however.  He was so quiet and rarely said more than a few words in response to his questions.  Most of the time, he couldn’t even make eye-contact with him.  Instead, he trained his eyes on Makoto’s tail or on his own feet or the hands in his lap, only meeting Makoto’s eyes for brief moments before looking away again.  

But Makoto forgave him for that.  After all, he couldn’t be surprised that the human was fixated on his tail—the tail that clearly branded him as something that was not supposed to exist, something out of a tale, something his human mind was probably still trying to understand.  And now that Makoto was awake, he imagined Haru was seeing that emerald-green, mythical, fanned piece moving for the first time.  Reacting to the sharp pain that would greet Makoto every few moments, it would spread out wide as if it were stretching out as far as it could as it prepared to effectively push Makoto away from a threat with a powerful kick.  When Makoto would smile or try to laugh, it would thoughtlessly flick through the air of the white bathroom as it would when Makoto would do his small flips and spins in the water.  Even at rest, his tail was programmed by years of muscle-memory to keep moving, to push water out from below or behind him to keep him balanced.  He was usually quite the animated talker, moving his hands and swishing his tail through the water excitedly as he spoke, but now every smile, every light-hearted chuckle, every excited gasp… it all hurt.

To Makoto’s delight, Haru kindly kept him company all throughout the pain.  Occasionally when Makoto’s words would be caught in his throat by a pained yelp or when his face would become twisted with suffering, Haru would offer to get him water or food and would nervously glance down at Makoto’s covered tail with concern.  Every time, Makoto would assure him that it only hurt a little and thank him again for taking care of him so diligently, but that was a lie.

Makoto lost track of how many times Haru had asked if he was okay, if his tail hurt, if he needed anything as an hour of slow conversation passed by.   He was nearly writhing in agony, having to pause mid-sentence at times, stopping to breathe deeply, eyes watering with hot tears again and again, but he didn’t want Haru to know.  Even if this man was dedicated to taking care of him, he didn’t want to be a bother.  So, he fought to keep the smile, brushed away his tears with his hand when Haru wasn’t looking, kept up the conversation as best as he could, and prayed to whatever gods there were that if he were going to die it would be soon. 

He’d learned that the man’s full name was Haruka Nanase and that he was actually twenty—about the same age as Makoto, though he looked younger.   Apparently, he was a college student in Tokyo, but he lived here in his parents’ empty home during the summers.  Studying as an art major, whatever that was, he’d already made somewhat of a name for himself locally for his hand-painted murals of underwater scenes that sometimes covered entire walls.  However, he had yet to produce anything he could sell, so he worked part-time at a local store during the summer to make money while his parents sent in money from abroad for his bills and tuition, whatever that meant.

As Haru started to open up, sitting closer, glancing up into Makoto's eyes more often, the blessed pain medications began to take effect.  The pain began to disappear like sea foam and his head grew heavy with sleep.

“Sorry, Haru-chan, I think I'm getting tired here,” Makoto said with a tired smile, lifting heavy lids that sank like anchors before his eyes.

“We can talk tomorrow. Get some rest,” Haru replied, getting up from where he'd been kneeling beside the tub.  “If you need something, just call… I'm in the next room.”

Makoto nodded, saying one more time, “Thank you, Haru-chan… Thank you so much.”

Haru looked away, his index finger stroking the panel on the wall as if he couldn't decide whether or not to press the button to turn down the lights. “It was nothing,” he said quietly for what must have been the fifth time.  His finger finally pressed against the button and the lights went down.  “Don't call me - _chan_."

With a soft chuckle on his lips, Makoto fell into darkness once more.  _ Haru it is.  _


	4. White Will Be Your Undoing

“Tilt your head back,” Haru ordered, his voice on the edge of dominance, teetering on soft concern.  Makoto could never tell which it was.

Quickly complying, Makoto tilted his head back.  They'd done this so many times, so many days, so many hours of every day, again and again, until it was a reflex, until Makoto didn't need to be ordered anymore, but Haru did all the same.  His head tilted back and his mouth opened, pale lips parched and parted, his breath already short.

First came water.  Makoto wasn't allowed to swallow it. Second came the pills.  Makoto swallowed them both together.  Refreshing water coursed down his throat, replenishing what had once again become as dry as the desert, and two white capsules were swallowed down with it to chase away the pain that was too stubborn to leave for good.  

He'd been recovering in Haru's bathtub for three weeks since he woke up—five weeks total. 

As the pills fell from Haru's fingers, Makoto craned up to meet them, brushing his lips against the soft pads of his thin fingers as he hastily swallowed.  His tongue flicked across his palm and he begged, “One more… Haru-chan, it hurts.”

Haru's hand was in his hair, as usual, gently petting him, gently brushing his hair from his eyes, gently scratching behind the ears, gently untangling the knots from his hair he really needed to trim again.  His grasp tightened.

“Ah!” Makoto winced and a soft whimper pushed past his lips.  “Sorry, Haru,” he said quickly, remedying his failure with another brush of his wet tongue across Haru's palm. 

“Why do you need one more?” Haru asked, his tone and his hand, once more, gentle.

Makoto took three of Haru's fingers into his mouth, greedily sucking as if Haru's fingers were dispensers for more medication.  He slid his lips off with a slick sound and replied shamefully, “Two isn't enough… It still hurts.” 

“These pills are expensive.”

“I know that now.  I know, Haru-chan—” Makoto winced, gasping at the next tug to his honey-brown hair.  “Please… Please…” His voice trailed off as Haru released his hair.

Haru let out a sigh and stood, leaving his side, exiting the bathroom through the open door, and Makoto was left with his mouth hanging open, hopeful, emerald eyes following his retreating back with desperation.  _ Please come back. Please come back. _

Makoto beamed, almost choking back a sob with happiness when Haru re-entered the room a moment later.  

“Head back,” Haru commanded again.

Makoto easily complied, whispering, “Thank you, thank you,” as Haru's hand hovered above him, the little white pill trapped in between his thumb and index fingers.  It didn't drop.  Makoto whimpered, stretching his neck to be an inch closer.

“Why am I giving this to you?” Haru asked calmly, his free hand gently rubbing small circles on the nape of Makoto's neck. 

“Why?” Makoto asked back, confused, his eyes finally leaving the pill and seeking out Haru's face.  He'd not asked this question before. “Because I need it?” Makoto replied uncertainly. 

Haru shook his head, looking disappointed. “That's not it.” He pressed the pill to Makoto's lips then, letting him taste just the foul coating of the capsule, as he said, “Think about it.” He pushed the pill past Makoto's lips and it was eagerly swallowed dry before Haru even had a chance to offer him something to swallow it down with. 

Then, Haru was up, checking the temperature of the bath water and shutting off the lights.

“You won't stay and talk to me today?” Makoto asked resting his head back against the tile.

Haru hesitated at the door, saying briefly, “You need your rest and I have to go to work.”

“Oh…,” Makoto replied, visibly deflating.  

“I'll be back in a couple of hours.”

“Okay…”

Footsteps approached quickly across the tile floor.  Makoto looked up, concerned when he wasn't able to make out the expression on Haru's face as he drew suddenly near. Was he angry?  Was he sad?  “Haru? What—”

Haru's head dipped down, his eyes closed, and he lifted Makoto's chin with a firm hand.  Then, he hesitated, a breath away from Makoto's face, and his eyes peeked open to find Makoto staring back at him in shock, a yelp caught in his throat.

Haru recoiled immediately, dropping his hand and turning away.  “Think about it,” he said tersely as he hurriedly fled from the room. 

“E-eh? Haru!” Makoto called after him, but the door shut and Haru didn't come back.

 


	5. That Makes Three

The second time it happened, it was Makoto.  

His tail was throbbing again and he couldn't get comfortable in the tub.  There were kinks in his back worse than the ones he would get back home when he slept incorrectly on a rock while sunbathing or when his twin siblings would hang off of him while he swam. No matter how he positioned himself, slouching down or sitting up straight or leaned over the side, he couldn't find a way to sleep comfortably. 

Haru offered to let him try using a pillow, wrapped up in some sort of plastic to keep it from getting wet, and it helped tremendously.

“You're so smart, Haru-chan!” Makoto said with a smile, comfortably resting back.

“Don't call me Haru-chan.”

Makoto smiled sheepishly, scratching at the corner of his mouth as he replied, “Ah, sorry. I forgot again.”

Haru blew a bit of air out of his nose and rested his head on his arms, leaning against the side of the tub and closing his eyes.  

“Could it be that you're tired?” Makoto asked, tilting his head.

One of Haru's eyes peeked open and then shut again. “A little…” 

“You could stay here with me, if you want to,” he offered.  “I mean, the edge of the tub isn't really comfortable, so it's probably stupid, but…” He trailed off, looking down at his hands. “I sleep better when I know you're closeby,” he finally confessed.

Haru sat up, rubbing his cheek sleepily, and then blinked.  “I'm just in the next room…”

“Ah, I know that; that's why it's stupid.  I just—” Makoto wasn't sure he was making any sense at all.  “I really like spending time with you, Haru-ch—” Ah, he caught himself that time.  _ “Haru.” _ He looked up into his big blue eyes, pleading as he leaned forward and took his hands. “I'd really like it if you'd stay.” 

For a moment, they just stared and all that Makoto could see in Haru's crystal blue eyes was a near-perfect reflection of himself.  He felt like his heart was thundering, but maybe that was the pills, and he felt like his head was light, but maybe that was because he was tired.  

“Fine,” Haru replied, tugging his hands away and resuming his previous perch on the edge of the tub. “If I stay like this, you'll sleep, right?”

“Yes! Thank you,” Makoto replied leaning his own head on his arm next to Haru and shutting his eyes as if by closing them he could bring sleep upon himself somehow faster.  “Goodnight, Haru.”

“Night.”

Unfortunately, sleep was an elusive creature, though not for Haru, who was sound asleep soon after their conversation.  Makoto's eyes peeked open and for a time he simply watched, studying the rise and fall of his chest and the way his ebony-black hair fell into his face, rustling softly with each exhale. He looked almost angelic in his sleep, Makoto's savior. 

Carefully, Makoto raised a hand, hoping that Haru wouldn't wake up as he brushed a bit of hair from Haru's face so that Makoto could admire his gentle features, every graceful curve of his jaw, the pout of his lips, the arch of his brows, and the long, dark lashes on each eyelid and give them each the worship that they were due.  His finger curiously traced from his temple to his chin and then followed the curvature of his nose.  Leaning close, he sighed, watching him sleep, and he whispered sweetly, “Sleep well, Haru-chan,” before he finally closed his eyes as well and touched his lips to Haru's, very careful not to apply _too_ much pressure and not lingering for more than a moment as his heart beat against his ribs so loudly he thought it alone might awaken his sleeping angel. 

But when he pulled away, a secret smile stuck to his face, and he opened his eyes, he met blue. 

Haru was awake. 

* * *

The third time, it was Haru.

Makoto flailed, searching everything he knew to find an excuse that might make sense very quickly “Ah! Um, sorry! I was just—”

“You kissed me,” Haru said bluntly as he sat up, staring at Makoto, looking surprised.

“I did! I know and I'm sorry. It won't happen again, Haru-chan, I swear—” Makoto's head kept turning, his eyes kept moving, his cheeks burning with embarrassment, excuses and apologies pouring forth from his mouth like seawater. He couldn't look at Haru, couldn't imagine what Haru would say. Oh, what if he kicked him out?  What if he didn't give him his medicine anymore? Oh, this was a stupid plan from the start.   _Great going, Makoto—_

“It's fine.” 

Makoto whined, “No it isn't! I stole a kiss and I didn't think you'd wake up.  Oh my god, I'm so embarrassed!” He covered his face with his hands.  “I'm sorry! Just forget it happened, please?” 

“Makoto,” Haru called, his voice stern.

Wincing at Haru's tone, he faltered in his string of apologies and fell to silence for at least a moment, ashamed, and, slowly, Makoto lowered his hands and dared to peek.  Haru was probably so mad! “Haru, I'm sorr—”

He was finally silenced.  Makoto's eyes flew open wide as Haru's lips pushed suddenly against his own, but it didn't stop there.  Their lips moved together, sliding and grinding and accompanied but a tenor hum that Makoto only realized came from himself when they were a minute into their second kiss. 

When they pulled away, much too soon, in Makoto's opinion, all Haru had to say was, “You could've just asked.”


	6. Home Sweet Home

Makoto scrunched up his nose, his eyebrows knit together, his eyes screwed tightly shut, and his lips pressed together to form a white line as he tried.  Tried again.  Again.  One more time.  The end of his tail wiggled and stretched and lay back down and Makoto released the breath he'd been holding in with a heavy sigh.  “There! I did it!”

“Can you move it?” Haru asked as he came into the room, a shallow bowl of fried mackerel in one hand and a pair of chopsticks in the other.  He sat on the edge of the tub and held out a piece for Makoto to taste.

“Mhm!” Makoto replied triumphantly before he opened his mouth to accept Haru's offering.  As he chewed, he continued, “I can move just the end and it didn't even hurt all that bad!”

Chopsticks clacked together in front of his face.  “Mouth closed.”

“Ah! Right!”  Makoto shut his mouth, chewing and swallowing before he said any more.  Humans had so many rules! “Sorry, Haru.”

“It's fine. Here,” Haru replied, holding out a second piece.  “I'm glad your tail is feeling better.”

_ Swallow first.  Talk after.  _

“Yes! It's so great.  Maybe I'll even be able to swim soon,” Makoto said, sighing hopefully as he looked up at the window that was just a bit too high to see out of.  He hadn't seen the outside in so long… Had it been a month already?  His mind drifted away to his alcove, to the green ivy that crawled down the wall, to the sunlight that would bask in on his smooth rock in the center while he hummed and filled the empty space with his echoing tenor. 

Another piece of mackerel was pushed against his cheek, breaking him out of his daydream with a chuckle. “Alright, sorry,” Makoto said with a grin, opening his mouth and taking the last bite. _Swallow_.  “I just feel so excited!  Soon I can go home—”

There was a sudden crash.  

Makoto started, the loud noise catching him off guard, and he let out a yelp.  Haru sat there, unmoving, staring intently at the dish on the floor that had shattered, at the broken bits of porcelain, as if they were bones that he could somehow tell the future from, as if they were so many words to give him the answers he sought, as if broken bits of dishes would show him the path. 

“Haru?” Makoto asked, following his gaze down.  “Oh, the dish.  It's—”

“Broken.”

“Are you okay? Don't step on any pieces.  I don't want you to hurt yourself.”

“I'm fine.”

“Oh…,” Makoto said, trailing off, looking down at the pieces.  He wished he could help to clean up.  “It gave me quite the scare,” he added after a moment of thick silence, chuckling to himself to fill the emptiness.

Haru got up then, but not to clean up any of the shattered pieces that decorated the ground with their sharp edges.  He began to climb into the tub. “Scoot over.”

Makoto scooted over immediately, confusion plain on his face.  “Eh? You're not going to clean it up?” he asked, worrying first about the broken edges. What if Haru forgot and stepped on them later? “Ah, you're still in your clothes!” he pointed out when Haru had begun to step in, pants already soaked up to the knee. “Is there enough room?” 

Despite his concern, however, Haru stepped in and comfortably sat himself down in the bath, one leg hooked around Makoto's middle, and he commanded, “Lift your arm.” Makoto did just that and Haru quickly tucked himself into his side, laying his head upon Makoto's chest.  He sighed softly, saying, “Don't talk about that,” as he ran his finger down Makoto's middle, caressing the curves of his abdomen.  

“Talk about what?” Makoto asked, tilting his head and barely holding back a giggle as Haru's gentle touch grazed a spot where he was ticklish.  Luckily, he'd had his pain medication earlier, so it wouldn't hurt him to laugh.

Haru's hand stopped and he flattened his palm over Makoto's belly-button. “Going home.” 

“Eh? Why not?” Makoto asked in reply, not sure why Haru didn't want to talk about it.  It was inevitable, wasn't it?  And they could still see each other! He'd visit Haru every day! “I have to go home sometime—”

“I said no,” came Haru's response.  His hand quickly turned to a tight fist. 

Makoto sighed, affectionately nuzzling Haru's black hair.  It was so nice with him so close!  He spoke softly, a smile on his face as he asked, “Haru-chan, ...could it be that you'll miss me?”

Haru was silent, but he turned and buried his face in Makoto's chest.  “You can't leave… and don't call me that.”

“I can't live in your bathtub forever,” Makoto replied gently, trying to reason with him.  He lifted a hand to brush some of the ebony hair, so soft and smooth to the touch, away from Haru's forehead. 

Haru seemed to tense at that and he tersely asked, “Why not?”

“Well, I guess _technically_ I could but,” Makoto said, pausing to think and letting out a sad sigh, “well, I need to move around and I need to see my family too!  They're probably so worried… And I'll gain a lot of weight if I just sit here!”

“I don't care,” Haru replied stubbornly, actually shifting so that his head rested on Makoto's belly. “Get as fat as you want.”

“ _Haruuuuu_ ,” Makoto wailed, far too embarrassed that he was resting where he'd already begun to gain weight, a part of him that he was actually quite subconscious about.  He certainly didn't want to gain weight there, but he gained it so easily… He pulled Haru up by the shoulders and gave him his best pout and his _very_ best puppy dog eyes. “Haru, you know I can't stay forever with you,” he said again. “I'd love to, but… but I need to be in the _ocean_ … I'd visit you every day, I promise!  It'd be no different.”

Judging by the look on Haru's face, he didn't seem convinced.  In fact, he looked annoyed.  Haru looked to the side, saying, “I said I don't want to talk about it… You're not even healed yet.”

Makoto let out a sigh. “Well, just keep it in mind, alright?” he asked, leaning forward with a little smile to plant a gentle kiss on Haru's cheek. “Until then, thank you for taking care of me.”

Haru gave a short nod and settled back against his chest, still seeming rather discontent, but at least the subject was dropped. 

“Oh!” Makoto exclaimed suddenly as a thought occurred to him. “There's a place where my family goes sometimes to lay in the sun near the shore.  Um, I could draw a map for you?” he explained as Haru turned his face, resting his chin on Makoto's chest as he listened quietly. “I could write them a letter for you to leave there for them or you could tell them yourself that I'm okay and tell them what happened.  Would that be okay?  I don't want them to worry…”

Turning his face away again, Haru rested back on his chest, muttering, “Fine…” 

“Ah!  Thank you, Haru-chan! That makes me really happy.  I'm sure they'll be glad to know I'm all right!”

“Mhm."

A bit of silence passed between them as they rested and Makoto ran his hand over Haru's back, up and down his spine gently in little circular motions like what his mom used to do to help him sleep when he had nightmares. “Hey… Haru-chan?”

“What?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too…” 

* * *

That was two weeks ago.  

Makoto lay in the tub, as he always did, worrying his lip and wringing out a washcloth between his hands.  He hadn’t heard anything about the letter at all and the one time he’d asked, Haru had only vaguely commented that perhaps they hadn’t seen it yet.  Makoto was sure that was the case, but it had been two entire weeks!  Maybe he should write another?

He closed his eyes, leaned his head back, and placed the warm cloth on his forehead, keeping himself moist while he rested, wishing that Haru would come home from work soon so that he could ask him about it and get some more pills.  The last ones he’d had had worn off already and his tail was throbbing again so much that he couldn’t move it without letting out a sharp cry.

The pain seemed to come in like the tide, suffocating and overwhelming and only going out at the behest of that blessed medication.  But the tide was relentless.  It came back every time stronger, washing over him again until he was nearly sobbing, his lower half aching and sending sharp spikes of pain up his sides and his spine at the slightest movement.  He would’ve thought that, by now, he’d feel so much better and when he had the medication he felt almost normal and good enough to return to sea, but then the pain would undoubtedly return with a vengeance to wash away any hope he had of going home soon.

The front door made a loud sound as it closed and Makoto’s eyes snapped open, his heart racing with joy as he sat up what little that he could, the washcloth slipping off of his head and falling to the water, forgotten.  “Haru!” he called before Haru had even come into the bathroom.  He could hear him in the next room, probably changing out of his work uniform.  “Haru, hurry, please!”

A moment later, Haru appeared, sliding the door to the side and stepping onto the tile, only half-dressed and wearing a concerned expression.  “What’s wrong?”

“It hurts again,” Makoto complained, running a hand through his hair in frustration.  “I don’t know if it’s getting any better at all; it just keeps hurting!  Oh, maybe you should leave the pills by the tub when you’re gone?  I don’t know if I can take it… They don’t seem to last as long anymore.”

“I’ll get you more,” Haru offered, already moving over to the medicine cabinet and shaking the bottle until three fell into his hands.

“Oh, thank you, Haru.  Thank you,” Makoto said with a sigh, already tilting his head back in anticipation as Haru came over to drop them into his mouth.  “By the way, have you heard anything from my family?”

Haru paused, his hand hovering over Makoto’s open mouth, not releasing the pills.  “No. Why?”

Makoto whined, so tempted to reach up and just pry the pills out of Haru’s grasp, but he knew Haru wouldn’t like that.  “It’s been two weeks.  I would have thought they’d have seen my letter and replied by now,” he said, begging Haru with his emerald gaze to drop the pills.  He _needed_ them.

To Makoto’s dismay, Haru pulled his hand back, setting it on his lap as he knelt by the tub.  “I didn’t leave them the letter.” 

“Didn’t… leave…,” Makoto echoed softly, eyes widening at Haru’s unrepentant face with confusion.  “But I thought you said you would! I wrote it so that they wouldn’t worry about me!” 

“I lost it,” Haru replied quickly, turning his face away.  

_He was lying._ Makoto knew it, but he didn’t want to argue about it, so he took a breath and tried to push the pain and the annoyance out of his mind so that he wouldn’t get angry and offered him a warm and forgiving smile, “That’s okay.  I can write another one...”  He looked to Haru’s closed hand again, biting his lip.  “Can I have the pills now?”

“Head back.”


	7. Tides and Fire

“Here you go, Haru-chan!  I used a bit of your notebook paper, so I hope you don’t mind? I didn’t want to bother you and you were so cute sleeping on the edge of the tub like that,” Makoto said, a proud smile spreading from ear to ear as he held out a little folded note.

Haru rubbed his eyes sleepily, a toothbrush still hanging out of his mouth and a bit of mint toothpaste (Makoto _loved_ when he used his mint toothpaste!) drying around the corners of his lips as he asked, “What’s this?”

“It’s my third letter.  You lost the first one and the second one, remember?  You really ought to be more careful about misplacing things,” Makoto said with a little chuckle, still holding out the letter insistently.  “I’m really sure my family is probably _very_ worried, so, really, if you have time today to drop it off, I’d appreciate—”

“No.”

Makoto blinked, feeling like he’d been slapped somehow.  “W-why not?”

Haru turned away, finishing with his teeth first, brushing in little circles while he stared into the porcelain sink.  He took a small paper cup, filled it with water, rinsed, and then spit into the sink while he let the water run to wash it away.  “I said no,” he replied simply, rinsing off his brush and placing it back in its holder.

“But it’s my family.  What—”

Haru wiped his mouth with a towel and left the bathroom then before he could finish asking and Makoto felt his arms that had been holding out the letter sag as he rested against the side of the tub, feeling somehow… angry.  A part of him had always known somehow that Haru was lying, that he hadn’t really lost the first two letters, but he couldn’t understand.  Why didn’t Haru want him to contact them?  Where was the threat in that?

“Haru!” he called, hoping that Haru could hear him as he got ready for work.  “It’s just that I’m sure they’re probably worried.  It’s been two months since they’ve seen me… I don’t think you have anything to worry about.  I didn’t write anything obvious, so I’m sure that, even if a human like you picked up the letter, no one would know what I am and I don’t know your address, so I don’t think anyone would come looking.  I just don’t want them to worry.  I told you we lost one of our friends in a fishing accident before… I don’t want them to think I’m dead or anything—”

The front door slammed shut.

Six words.  He’d said six entire words to him that morning and then… he was gone.   And he hadn’t given Makoto his medication before he left.

Makoto panicked. “Haru!”  he called.  “Haru, wait!” he called again, but Haru didn’t return.  Haru didn’t return and so Makoto was left with nothing but a useless scrap of paper in his hands.

He threw it to the floor with a huff and ran a frustrated hand down his face.  Why couldn’t Haru just send it?  Why did he have to get so mad and throw temper tantrums like this?  He could have at least let him take his medication first before storming out of the house!

Makoto was trying to do the math in his head, pulling out of his memory how long Haru had said he had to work today.  Was it four hours or was it eight?  Makoto groaned, nearly pulling his hair out of his head as he sank into the tub down to his nose, hissing when his tail protested the movement.  He couldn’t remember.  He couldn’t remember how long Haru was going to be gone, how long he would have to wait for his next dose of pills.

Well, that was okay.  He could last a few hours, right?  He could just go back to sleep and try not to move too much and maybe it wouldn’t be so bad…

* * *

 

It was sixteen.  Sixteen hours Haru was gone.  Sixteen hours Makoto had spent in agonizing pain, feeling like his tail was on fire, going nearly out of his mind to the point where he’d begun to peel away the wrappings to see how it could possibly hurt so bad, how it could possibly have taken two months to heal, how it could possibly keep him so incapacitated that he’d been unable to move from this goddamn bathtub for two entire months.

It… didn’t look like how he’d thought it’d look.  Of course, he only got a small glimpse of it before he saw all of the exposed muscle and scale-free skin before he turned and wretched, the contents of his stomach spilling all over the tile floor.  Why were there fresh-looking cuts?

When Haru came home at midnight, wandering in silently, Makoto didn’t hear him come in over his own whines and groans and whimpers and more wretching onto the floor.

“Makoto,” Haru said as he gently pressed a warm, wet towel to Makoto’s face, wiping away his sweat and the mess around his mouth.  “You made a mess.”

“Haru,” Makoto whined, grasping for his shirt with trembling hands.  “Please—Please, it hurts.   _Please_ …” His mouth was dry and his throat felt like sandpaper and his bandage was still wide open from where he’d pulled it away earlier.

“Where’s your note?” he asked.

Makoto whimpered in frustration.  “P-please, Haru-chan… The pills?”

“Give me the note first, then I’ll get your pills.”  

Makoto groaned, shakily grasping for the note he’d left on the floor beside his puddle of vomit, crying out in pain as the action sent more pain all throughout.  “Here,” he said, his voice dry and broken as he shoved the note toward him.  “T-take it.” 

Instead, Haru held up a lighter.  He flipped the cap off and pressed the button so that a little flame appeared, dancing before Makoto’s tired eyes.  “Burn it.” 

“What? But you—”

“Makoto. Burn it.”

“Haru, they need to know I’m okay!  Don’t you understand?” 

Haru stood, flipping the lighter closed, and left the bathroom again.

“Haru!” Makoto cried.  “Haru, come back, _please!_ You haven’t given me any—I can’t stand it anymore!”  He shouted and he kept shouting and he cried and sobbed until his eyes were red, his face streaming with tears, and there was snot running out of his nose and he’d begun to scratch away at more of the bandages.   _“Haru, please!”_

An hour later, Haru appeared again, dressed in his bedclothes, a mop and bucket at his side, and he began to clean up the mess on the floor.

“Haru, the floor can wait. Just give me something for the pain, please!” Makoto sobbed, reaching out grab hold of his mop, but Haru quickly slapped his hand away without a word.  “Why? Why won’t you talk to me?” Makoto asked, desperately grasping for the mop another time, only to find himself at the receiving end of a hard glare.  “Haru!”

When the floor was done and sparkling clean once more, Haru left and came back, this time with new bandages.  He moved the stool from the shower over to the side of the tub and then set to work, tugging away the rest of Makoto’s wrappings before he could see to fixing him with new ones.

Makoto screamed.  Haru wasn’t gentle, Haru wasn’t fast, and Haru wasn’t giving him anything for the pain!  His wound was open and exposed and began to bleed into the water around him as he writhed in pain, his back arching and his nails clawing at the sides of the tub as he sobbed and screamed out loud.

“Noisy...,” was all that Haru had to say in complaint as he bandaged his wounds again.  Only when that was done did he sit back and gently run a hand through Makoto’s bangs, soaking with more sweat and tears than water now.  “Do you want pills now?”

“Yes,” Makoto choked out, trembling.  “Please… Please…”  His eyes shut and he felt himself shaking and he wrapped his arms around himself.  “Please…”

There was a click. 

Makoto’s eyes opened and he turned his head to see the flame dancing before him again.  “Haru—Haru, please… Haru, I can’t.”

Another click and the flame was gone.  Haru stood, going over to the medicine cabinet, and he pulled out the jar of pills before walking over to kneel before the tub again. Another click and the flame glowed brightly again.

“Just… give me the pills, please.”

“Burn it.”

“Why?!” Makoto found himself yelling through his pain, reaching out with his hand as if to swipe the bottle away from him, but Haru was quick to move it away.

“Makoto,” he scolded.  “I told you to burn it.  That first, then I’ll give you these.”

“Why—Why can’t I send a letter to my family?”

Click.  Flame off. “It’s too dangerous,” Haru said, standing up.  He unscrewed the lid and, just for a moment, Makoto thought he was going to give him what he needed.  “I don’t want anyone to find out about you,” he explained, holding the bottle sideways and letting the pills spill out…

… into the toilet.

“Haru, stop!” Makoto yelled in a panic. _“Stop!”_

The bottle tilted upward again with a twist of Haru’s wrist and the rain of white pills ceased for the moment.  “Will you burn it?” he asked, not looking Makoto in the face.

“I… I’ll do it,” Makoto agreed, regretting he words the moment that they spilled from his mouth.  “I’ll do it!” he said again.

Haru poured three pills into his palm and set down the bottle of pills on the sink before holding out the lighter once more.  Click.

With trembling hands, Makoto grasped for the letter again, crinkling the flimsy paper in his hands as he held it out toward him.  “Burn it, Haru… Go ahead.”

“Do it yourself,” Haru sad instead, holding out the lighter again.

Makoto whimpered in protest, groaning in agony as he reluctantly reached for the silver lighter.  He held it in his hands for a moment, and then his gaze flickered up to meet Haru’s, but he found no deep ocean in his sapphire blue irises… only steel and hard ice.  There was an emptiness there, a coldness.  

“Makoto, you’re stalling,” Haru pointed out as he glared right back.

“S-sorry, Haru-chan,” Makoto mumbled, and he finally brought his hand up and held the paper over the flame.  It blackened at the edge and then caught fire, curling in his hand until he dropped it to the floor, letting it turn into a twisted bit of black ash.  It was done.

Haru opened his fist that contained the three white pills, holding it up to Makoto’s face, commanding, “Eat.”

Makoto lifted a hand to take them from his grasp, but his hand was slapped away.  “Wh—”

_“Eat,”_ Haru commanded again, insistently moving his hand closer to Makoto’s mouth.

Makoto blinked at him and then looked away before slowly nodding and lowering his head to take the pills directly from Haru’s palm with his mouth.  Haru’s gentle fingers from his free hand moved to Makoto’s hair and he comfortingly caressed him there, stroking and petting him as Makoto’s soft lips brushed across his soft skin.  Makoto was certain that he left tears and long string of drool behind as he sucked them into his mouth and then swallowed them dry as he pulled away.  The pills scraped and scratched as they went down his throat and Makoto sat there, finally, in confused silence.

“Now.  What do you say?” Haru asked.

“... Thank you, Haru.”

“Goodnight, Makoto.”

“... Goodnight.”


	8. Scratching the Vinyl

Since that night, Haru wasn’t the same.  Neither was Makoto.

For the first time in the two and a half months since they’d been together, it was Haru who talked more out of the two of them.  He said things like “Eat” and “Go to sleep” and “Be good while I’m gone” and that was it.  Makoto replied every time with a “Yes, Haru” and “Thank you, Haru.”  

And that was all.

And that was what drove Makoto mad.  

Their days seemed to repeat like a broken record and Makoto could have written out exactly what Haru would do and say every day.  He would wake up, wander into the bathroom, brush his teeth half-asleep, and wander back out.  He’d have a breakfast that consisted of, usually, mackerel, and he’d come back to the bathroom with Makoto’s breakfast, which was the same.  He’d hold out each piece carefully with the chopsticks and feed Makoto slowly, piece by piece, until the bowl or the plate was empty.  Then, he’d leave and wash their dishes and return before he left to offer Makoto three white pills.  Makoto would eat them out of his hand and Haru would stroke his hair.  Then, Haru would get dressed for work and kiss Makoto goodbye, grabbing him by the chin and placing a kiss on his chapped lips, and then he would leave.  He’d be gone for a few hours, but then he’d return just when Makoto was beginning to worry, just when the tide was starting to move in and the pain was creeping up on him.  He’d fetch the bottle of pills from the medicine cabinet again and, again, Makoto would eat them from his hand.  Then, he’d make dinner—sometimes it was the same as breakfast—and then he would feed Makoto after he’d fed himself.  Piece by piece.  Then, he’d set the dishes aside and crawl into the tub with him, resting his head on Makoto’s bare chest, tracing shapes in Makoto’s skin with his finger.  Sometimes, Haru would nap.  Sometimes, Makoto napped just so that he’d forget for a moment that Haru was with him.  When he woke up, Haru would get out and shower, sitting on the stool beside the tub and using the shower head to bathe.  Then, he would dress for bed and get his sketchbook.  He’d sit down on the stool again, sitting on his towel, and he’d draw.  Makoto stared at him or counted the tile or picked at his fingernails or closed his eyes and dreamed of home and then, an hour later, Haru would be done.  Then, he’d stand and turn off the light and go into the other room to sleep.

One day, Makoto asked, “How did you know I was in trouble?”

Haru paused in his sketching, looking up and tilting his head.  “What?”

“How did you know I was in trouble?” Makoto repeated.  “When you saved me.”

It took another moment for Haru to realize that Makoto was asking about the events that had occurred over two months ago, but, when it clicked, he turned his attention back down to his sketchbook.  “I was there at the time. That’s all.”

“It was awfully dark… Do whaling boats usually go out late at night?” Makoto questioned, his eyes trained on Haru’s face.

“I don’t know… I guess.”

Makoto smiled at him warmly, but the warmth could be found nowhere in his tone of voice as he said, “Ah, you must be a wonderful swimmer, Haru- _ chan _ .  I was pretty far away from shore and it was so dark… It must have been so hard to rescue me.  _ Thank you _ .”

“It was nothing,” Haru replied, still sketching away.

“Hmmm,” Makoto hummed back and he was silent for a moment, leaning his head back to rest.  He closed his eyes and continued, “Really, Haru-chan, I wonder how you got to me so quickly.”

“I said I was there.  I know how to swim…”  Sketching still.

Makoto pursed his lips and let out a humorless chuckle.  “It was dark, though, and I don’t think I was _that_ close to shore,” he said, opening his eyes to watch Haru’s face.  “It’s almost like... you must have been on the same boat that shot me.”  

Haru paused, his eyes flickering up over the top of his sketchbook to meet Makoto’s.  “Don’t be stupid.”

“And I wonder how you managed to keep away the men who shot me,” he continued, looking away in feigned thoughtfulness for just a moment.  “They mustn’t have been happy about losing a harpoon  _ and  _ their catch.”

“Makoto. Stop it,” Haru commanded, his voice suddenly icy.

“I’m just trying to thank you, Haru _ -chan _ , for all of your hard work,” Makoto insisted. “You’ve taken such good care of me... I must be making a full recovery soon, right?”

Haru looked away and there was the slightest downturn of his lips as he said, “Of course.”

“Haru,” Makoto said, his voice soft.  “I know.”

There was a pause.  “Know what?”

“That you shot me,” Makoto said finally, a sort of pity in his eyes as Haru looked up at him in alarm.

Haru stood up suddenly, his sketchbook falling to the white tiled floor as he said, “I didn’t—”

“You _did_ ,” Makoto interrupted.  “I know you did…,” he said sadly, looking down at the water in his tub.  He smiled sadly, saying, “This was what you always wanted… You wanted me here.”

“Stop saying that!” Haru finally yelled.

“Haru-chan,” Makoto said levelly, looking at him quite seriously.  “You’ve been making it worse too.  My tail… I kept wondering, _‘Why does it still hurt so bad even though it’s been two and half months?’_ and for a while I just assumed that the injury was really that bad, but… Haru, I saw.  There’s fresh wounds every time I look.”

“Shut up!” Haru said, summoning a knife from his back pocket and holding it out in front of him as if he meant to defend himself.  “You’re not leaving!”

Makoto stared at him, wide-eyed.  “Haru…” 

“I said shut up!” Haru yelled back.

Frozen where he was, Makoto stared at the glistening knife before him, leaning as far back from it as he could in his porcelain prison.

“You’re not leaving…,” Haru said again.  “You can’t.”  He stepped closer to the edge of the tub and Makoto watched, his heart pounding as he held the knife over the bandages of Makoto’s tail.  “You don’t want to leave me…” 

“Haru…,” Makoto called softly, too afraid to make any sudden movements, his eyes glued to the knife hovering over him.

“Say it,” Haru snapped.  “Say you won’t leave.”

“I…,” Makoto said quietly, swallowing the dry lump in his throat, “... won’t leave.”

“Say you promise.”

“I promise.” 

Haru let the blade fall to his side and he sighed softly in relief while Makoto’s breath seemed to be stuck in his lungs, held captive there in his panic.  The blade was lowered, but he felt no safer.

“Don’t say anymore stupid things,” Haru said after a moment, pocketing the knife once more, and he calmly walked back over to the stool and took up the sketchbook and his pencil again again, sketching.

As if nothing ever happened.


	9. Desperate Measures

Haru was gone for an hour before Makoto finally put his plan into motion.  It was probably stupid, but what other chance or choice did he have?

He loved Haru and his heart ached to see him so angry, so upset, and so scared to be alone, but Makoto couldn’t stay here with him forever.  He belonged in the ocean with his family and with other merpeople.  He didn’t belong in a bathtub and he couldn’t be with Haru so long as he was hurting him like this.  Makoto was his _prisoner_ , heart, body, and mind, but there was a limit to how much pain he could endure, how many times he could lick the pills off of Haru’s palm, and how many times he could count the white tiles in the room. 

There were two thousand, five hundred, and seventy-six and there was one tile that was slightly off-white to the left of the sink.

He loved Haru, but he had to go.

He hadn’t left the bathtub since he was put there three months ago and he wasn’t sure he’d even have the strength to move out of it anymore, but he’d only get weaker the longer he stayed and so fight on he did, past the pain and through the weakness in his arms that were once rich with muscle, and he rolled off of the edge of the tub and onto the bathroom floor with a wet and heavy thud.

First objective complete.

Next, he went for the bottle.  After all, he’d only be hours away from when he needed his next dose.  He was only a small trip away from turning right around and begging Haru to let him eat out of his palm again.  He had to have those pills before he left.

Slowly, he pulled himself across the floor, grunting at the weight of his tail and at the pain of dragging his wounded lower-half all the way to the sink, but he had to.  He didn’t have a choice anymore.  Whatever pain he endured here would be well worth the freedom that it bought.  He hissed through his teeth and he was sweating, panting, by the time he reached the sink and he pulled himself up, barely able to reach the bottom of the medicine cabinet with the tips of his fingers.  He was so close… “Got it!” he said, feeling victorious as the cabinet door swung open and he grabbed quickly for the pill bottle.  Judging by the weight, it was about half full.

Second objective complete.

The next part was where things would get tricky.  It entirely depended on someone else helping him.  He realized that revealing himself would be dangerous and he realized that there was a possibility that no one would help him, but he had to try!

He lowered himself back to the ground from the sink and then, with a great amount of effort, pulled himself into Haru’s bedroom. He’d never actually seen it before.  It was nice, he supposed, though he didn’t have much to compare it to.  The carpeting was soft under his fingers and the lighting wasn’t quite as harsh or bright as it was in the bathroom, bouncing off of deep hues of blue. 

It didn’t take long to find the phone. Haru never took it with him, he’d noticed, but he’d seen Haru use it a few times before.  It was used for talking to people, so Makoto was counting on it to be his lifeline now.

After picking it up off the bed and taking it into his hands, Makoto then rolled onto his back, panting and resting for just a moment, exhausted already from the effort of pulling himself around.  Then, he set about trying to figure out how to use a phone.  Haru usually tapped the buttons, so he tried that.  It beeped at him and he was surprised for a moment, jumping and dropping the phone onto his face with a startled yelp.

Thankfully, it was still perfectly safe and he didn’t appear to have done anything wrong with it.  He held it up again.  The display was suggesting list of contacts that contained the two random numbers he’d happened to tap in.  The names it offered were Mom, Nagisa, and Rin.

Makoto picked one at random, praying to the gods that he was making the right decision and, after figuring out how to use the little directional arrows on the keypad, selected Rin and then “Call.”  He swallowed the nervous lump in his throat as he held the phone to his ear, just as he’d seen Haru do before, and he waited.  It rang. Rang. 

“Yo, Haru,” said a voice on the other line that Makoto could only guess belonged to this “Rin” person.  “Haven’t heard from you in a while.  What’s up?”

Makoto was shaking, but he firmly reminded himself that this was for Haru’s own good and it was the only way he could ever be free again. He had to do this!  “Ah, yes, hello?” he asked, his voice shaking with nervousness and uncertainty.

Rin asked back in a confused tone, “Wait, who’s this?”

“This is, uh, Makoto. I-I’m Haru’s, um… friend.”

“Oh. Well, hey.  Something I can do for you?” Rin asked.

“I n-need your help,” Makoto said, his voice breaking and he began to stutter with his nervousness. “I-I’m at Haru’s home, I think, a-and I’ve been here for months because I got hurt, see, and he was helping me, well, I _thought_ he was helping me, but he _wasn’t_ and he’s starting to scare me and he won’t let me leave and I can’t get out of here on my own, so I thought I would call—”

“Huh?” Rin said. “Wait, wait, slow down, slow down!  You’re saying Haru has you locked up in his house?” he asked in a tone of disbelief. 

“ _Yes!_ I’m sure it’s hard to believe, but I really am! I’ve been living with him for three months now, I swear!  He’ll be really mad if he finds out I called you, so can you help me, please?”

Rin was silent for a moment before he asked, “You’re serious?”

“Yes! Please! I’m serious! I need help!”

“Haru’s not some crazy person like that—”

“Just come to his house, then!  Just come to his house and you can see for yourself!  If I’m lying, then you can just go home again!” 

“Makoto.”

“Yes?”

“Who’re you talking to?”

The phone fell from Makoto’s hand immediately, the call still going as it fell to the carpet.  He could hear Rin calling his name on the line still, a faint cry of “Makoto? Oi, Makoto?” the only noise in the room as Makoto turned his head, eyes wide in horror, to see Haru standing in the doorway.  His mouth was agape, then it closed, and then it opened again to speak meekly, “N-no one, Haru.  I wasn’t talking to anyone.”

An obvious lie.

For a moment, they stared at each other and it was as if they were studying each other's movements, waiting for one of them to make the first move, to break their heavy silence and frozen posture and replace it with whatever Fate had decided would come next.  Makoto was pretty sure it wasn't going to be in his favor. 

Haru stepped forward first. Makoto quickly rolled over, scrambled up onto his arms and immediately retreated back toward the bathroom door, sliding Haru's phone under the bed and hoping that Rin believed him enough to come over, enough to save him before Haru could do so much worse to him.  His heart thundered in his chest, echoing in his ears, getting louder and louder until Haru had closed in on him. 

Hands wrapped around the end of his tail and grasped harshly and Makoto cried out loudly in pain and in surprise as Haru dragged him by his tail further into his bedroom. “Haru! Haru, wait! No!” Makoto threw out his arms, grasping at anything nearby, the doorframe or the bed or the dresser, to hold onto that might free him from Haru's hold, but he was in too much pain and he was too weak and Haru was too angry to let that happen.   _“Haru! Please!”_

“You were leaving,” Haru said coldly, finally releasing his tail and straddling his waist instead, sitting on top of his back and grabbing hold of Makoto's wrists, pinning them to the floor.  “Who were you talking to?” 

“No! I wasn't!” Makoto sobbed out, squirming beneath him.  “I was just—”

“Who did you call?”

“I was just—just _looking_ at the phone! I've seen you use it before and I wanted to see—”

“Who did you call?”

Makoto whimpered, trying to free his wrists.  

“Makoto.  Answer me.”

“I called… Rin.”

“What did you ask Rin to do?”

“Nothing!”

Haru twisted an arm behind his back painfully and Makoto cried out in pain. “I _know_ when you're lying to me,” Haru said coldly, not releasing Makoto's arm in the slightest.  “You asked him to take you away from me.”

“No!”

“You want to leave me,” he said, moving Makoto's other arm into the same position and holding them there together.

“It's not like that, Haru! I-I love you so much!”

“You wouldn't want to leave if you loved me.”

“I-I can't stay here, though!” Makoto finally said.  “Haru, you're scaring me!   _You're hurting me!”_

“I'm only doing it because I have to…”

“You don't have to!  Haru, please!  Let me go and let's talk about this!”

“There's nothing more to talk about.” 

Makoto trembled beneath him, his face pressed to the carpet, and he sobbed out, “Haru, please!”

One of Haru's hands left and Makoto could feel his weight shifting on his back as he reached for something. _Oh no…_

“Haru! _Haru, wait!_ ” Makoto begged, panicking and struggling beneath him in earnest as his head filled with the heavy dread of what Haru was going to do next. 

“Stop moving,” Haru commanded through grit teeth, and then he dug the tip of his sharp knife into Makoto's skin.

Screaming out loud, Makoto begged, “Haru, stop! Haru! Please, I'll do anything!”

The knife continued, dipping into his soft flesh as if he was made of no more than butter. It stung and burned as it explored his back, leaving a hot and moist trail of red as it moved from one side to the other and Haru ignored his cries for mercy, for patience, and for help entirely, set in his task.  When one line was finished, Haru started another and when that line was finished, another again.  On and on and on, never ceasing, the knife dug in deeply to the soft flesh of Makoto's back and Makoto found that his voice was going hoarse and he was nearly out of tears to cry by the time Haru had finished his fifth careful line.

“Holy shit—”

“Drop the knife!” a voice commanded with authority.

Haru froze where he was and turned his head to see Rin and Sousuke in the open doorway.  He didn't drop the knife. 

“Nanase, I said drop it!” Sousuke commanded again, his weapon pointed at Haru's chest, his finger on the trigger.

Rin was more shocked, like he was trying to wrap his head around what he was seeing.  “Haru… What—”

Makoto whimpered sadly from beneath Haru, the searing pain in his back and in his tail making his head light to the point where he wondered if he'd pass out.  Darkness bloomed around the edges of his vision as he trembled, too scared and exhausted and pained to feel any kind of relief.

Sousuke was stepping forward cautiously.  “Don't make me use this, Haru,” he said in a tone that showed he was trying to reason with him.  “Put it down.”

“Haru, I… I don't…,” Makoto started to say, a final, choked sob on his lips before his head lolled and he lost consciousness.

* * *

“Shit, I think it's real, Rin…”

“A real mermaid—er, merman!” Rin exclaimed in a tone of wonder. 

Makoto stirred, groaning as he came to, finding himself in Sousuke's arms.  Immediately his eyes were darting around, searching for Haru. “I—Where's Haru?”

“Hey, hey,” Sousuke cooed softly.  “I've got you, big guy. He's not gonna hurt you anymore.  It's Makoto, right?”

Makoto nodded slowly. 

“Okay, Makoto, I'm Sousuke. This is Rin. We've got paramedics on the way.  You're gonna be fine,” Sousuke continued. 

“Where... Where's Haru?” Makoto asked, his voice hoarse and as raw as his throat felt.

Rin answered. “He's over there,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of where Haru lay on the floor, handcuffed and unconscious.

Alarmed, Makoto asked, “Is he okay? Did you hurt him?”

“No more than we had to,” Sousuke answered.  “He’ll be fine.”

“Can you tell us what happened?” Rin asked. 

“It's… It's a long story,” Makoto said with a sigh, sagging against Sousuke's chest, looking between the two of them and then down at the deep red stain on the carpet beside them.  

“We've got time,” Sousuke said. “Don't push yourself.”

Makoto shook his head.  “No it's… It's fine. I'll say what I can before the… paramedics?” he said, pausing to make sure he got the word right and continuing when he received a small, encouraging nod from Rin.  “Well… I guess, it started three months ago… I was in this little green alcove that I like… I would sleep there sometimes...”


End file.
